Ghetto Girls

Deja stepped out of the Pepsi blue BMW and checked his waist. The gun was there. He walked across the street and unlocked the door. Deja walked upstairs to his second-floor apartment. He heard the phone ringing as soon as he entered the one bedroom abode. Deja picked up on the third ring.

“Bwoy you wuz just with your baby mother. Ain’t her ass big enough. I don’t think you need any more ass at all,” Bebop said with her thick Jamaican twang.

“I had to drop some loot off for my seed. Shorty is growing. But I need some o’ that sweet, ragamuffin-style punani. You feel me? So, you saw me when I was up in da building?”

“Alright. I am suppose to be studying, but I’ll come by in about a half and keep you company for a while. And by the way, don’t ask me to stay the whole night either because I’m not going to.”

Deja showered and changed into a red silk robe and matching boxers. With remote in hand, he sipped VSOP from a glass while channel surfing on his HD wide screen television. Bored, he put down the remote and rolled a blunt. He checked the time and lit it. Easing into the pleasure, Deja glanced at the snap shot of his son, Roshawan. His mind reflected on his two-year-old boy. Yeah, he’s growing. And handsome like his pops. Got his daddy’s nose. Damn! I’ve got to make sure he gets his, Deja thought.

Puffing on the blunt had him leaning, thinking about things like school for his child. Deja never completed school, but he vowed his son would. He puffed, licked his lips and reached for the cognac. He had the money to do something for his kid and planned on using the cheddar he had stacked from his grind. All his life Deja had scrambled for his and was a survivor of foster care and group homes. Early in his life Deja hated everyone, but enjoyed learning.

The formal education abruptly came to an end the day his friend, Mark, was shot to death in front of the school. Deja, who had run back into the school for what he thought would be a quick second, returned to find Mark clinging to life. There was a bullet-hole so deep that he saw all of Mark’s insides. Deja ran away from the group home and never returned to school.

The street offered a different education, and Deja was a fast learner. He learned to deal drugs. Deja was good at it, hooked up with the right set and the game rewarded him. When he displayed the fruits of his labor, girls flocked around him, lusting for cash. He could have his pick of the litter and Deja chose Kimberly. She was good looking, wifey material and had the most perfectly round ass he had ever seen. Kim, she’s Numero uno. And she’s the mother of my seed, he thought. I might just have to push up a girl in her womb. Kim claimed she wouldn’t have anymore kids for Deja until he gave up his den of hootchies.

Deja knew there were always girls. Bad guys attracted them like flies. Bebop was one of his. She had been living in the same building as Kimberly for six years and had been sharing Deja’s bed for three. She knew about the situation with Kimberly, but played her role and never made a fuss. And Bebop has that ghetto butt, too.

The doorbell rang. And boy, doesn’t she have some sweet trimmings to go with that ass? His reflection turned to lust as he got up to buzz his expected company into the building. Deja checked his gun and dimmed the light, setting the mood just right. He rubbed his hands when he heard the knock. Deja moved quietly and checked the peephole. He could see that it was Bebop and unlocked the three bolts. Deja with only one thing on his mind, opened the door wide to greet her.

“What’s up…what da fuck is wrong with…” Deja never completed the sentence. Startled as she flung herself at him, he knew there was no chance for him when he saw the other faces. They were uninvited. Oh shit! It’s a hit. He jumped back, but his reactions were already late. Lil’ Long and Vulcha were all over him like cheap cologne. Deja stumbled backwards, falling onto the carpet. He saw the blood and realized that he had been shot. The bullet had come through Bebop’s back. Deja felt the burning and saw his blood trickling. He had not heard the gun go off. He grabbed at his chest. The blood spurted out of him at a rapid rate.

“Why da fuck are you doing this to me?” Deja gasped. He glanced at Bebop. Her body, with that nice ass, lay still. He wished he had his gun. The phone began to ring. Even if they did-n’t mean to kill him, he may still bleed to death. Lil’ Long walked past him and picked up the receiver. Vulcha closed the door with a backward kick of his right leg. Maybe they just wanted money, thought Deja. He looked at Vulcha’s nine millimeter. The place was quiet. He could hear the caller.

“Deja, Deja, Deja, I know you’re there, fucking that Jamaican slut. You ho! I don’t understand your ass, first you wanna be all up in me then you run home to fuck her. Deja, fuck you. I’m coming over to kick your ass.”

He could hear Kimberly raving on the line. Deja wanted to scream out to her Call da cops. Call my niggas. He couldn’t move his lips and lay helpless, blood gushing from his chest. Lil’ Long put the phone down. “I know you’re there with that fucking ho. Don’t bring any diseases that nasty bitch give your ass to me. Fuck you Deja.”

My seed. As much as he tried to squeeze the words out, they remained stuck in his throat. Fuck it, he thought Kimberly will make sure my seed survives. Deja’s eyes watched as Lil’ Long walked closer to him. He put Deja’s gun to his head.

He fired twice. The bullets smashed Deja’s frontal lobe and destroyed his thoughts. Blood rushed from Deja’s ears, mouth and eyes. His body collapsed on the soft blue carpet, now stained with bright red blood.

“Not anymore,” Vulcha said. He sent two more slugs through Bebop’s back. Lil’ Long wiped the guns clean. He walked over to the phone and wiped it, also.

Lil’ Long, using a towel, placed his gun in Deja’s fingers. He folded Bebop’s fingers around Deja’s gun. Then he stepped back and admired his handiwork like an artist would.

“This shit will confuse da fuck out of da police. This nigga is stinking. Let’s bounce,” Vulcha said. They quickly left by the fire escape.

“I never liked his ass anyway. Fucking crack dealer,” Lil’ Long said. He jumped in the black Navigator and settled down comfortably as Vulcha drove away. They both puffed on a blunt which had been Deja’s final smoke.

“Yeah, yeah. Lets go get couple bottles of Dom P., and fuck around with ’em bitches,” Vulcha said. “Only the ones with the big titties getting tips,” Vulcha howled as the engine of the SUV roared. The idea made Vulcha hype as tires screeched and the Navigator swerved in a new direction.

“Here man, from now on you don’t have to ask me the time. Here’s your own rolie.” Vulcha said and threw the watch at Lil’ Long. “Can’t say I ain’t never give you anything.” Vulcha added.

“Ahight, that’s what I’m talking bout, a rolie from my nigga. That’s ahight. That’s ahight. Remind me when we get to that tittie bar, I should buy you your own bottle. My nig.” Lil’ long wiped the watch clean and beamed at the shine of the diamond encrusted bezel. “Yeah nigga lets get us some ass. I’m fucking tonight,” Lil’ Long screamed as the SUV made it’s way to the desired venue.

In the strippers’ bar, where topless waitresses served drinks and Buffalo wings. Being big-tippers, the two received VIP treatment all the time. They were known as heavy spenders and the prospect of big tips licensed them to rub, touch and finger the waitresses. Lil’ Long took full advantage of the privilege. Usually, Vulcha just stared at every pair of huge breasts that passed by. Occasionally he would explore them, like a blind man reading Braille, using nipples as reference points.

They immediately ordered two bottles of Dom Perignon in rapid succession. Lil’ Long visited the men’s room, pausing to kiss a few exposed belly buttons on the way. Men sat at small tables, watching the dancers take turns peeling off clothes, each in their own style. The beat was constant Hip-Hop sprinkled with a little bit of R&B. Lil’ Long danced back to the table, where Vulcha now drank champagne from the bottle.

“Nah, nah, da muthfucka left blood all over my Bill Blass, man. Had to wash that shit off.” He watched Vulcha guzzle from the bottle. “Ya know its bad manners to be drinking from da bottle, Vulcha.”

The waitress, Kamilla, arrived with more champagne. She was pretty, with an ass to Lil’ Long’s taste and breasts just right for Vulcha. Lil’ Long tipped her generously. She snuggled up to Vulcha and he buried his face in her huge chest.

“Down,” Lil’ Long said laughing and clapping his hands. He stroked her buttocks as she swished away. “That bitch is ours, kid,” he added.

He sucked on the champagne bottle and the bubbly ran all over his black suede jacket. They drank steadily and watched the girls stripping into the wee hours. Finally, Vulcha ordered a spliff to go. Kamilla brought it nicely rolled. Her breasts gleamed with heavy oil.

“Yo, I never seen her here before. She gotta be some new thing.” Lil’ Long speculated. “Her tail is shaking like she got a hemi up in da piece.” He laughed. Vulcha gave him a pound.

“Fuck that. New or not, that bitch is bagged, sun.” They laughed some more and pounded their fists together. Then drank even more.

“I hear you, muthafucka, cuz them mo’fucking cock-sucking bosses be making five, six, seven times da amount we be making,” said Vulcha. He grasped the bottle at the bottom, thrusting it at Lil’ Long, who did the same with his. The bottles clanked in a toast and they guzzled. Vulcha put down his bottle and lit the spliff.

“I be knowing for a fact that them muthfuckas be giving the prime jobs to their mob connect. The fucking Italians and Sicilians, they the ones getting hits on politicians and CEOs. They be getting the lion’s share. We, right now we just eating but soon we be running shit.”

“Nigga you see da Hyenas once they learn how to hunt like the lions, they be taking over and running the big cats off the land. Me and you, we like the Hyenas. We learning how to hunt together. You feel me?” Lil’ Long asked.

“I’m telling you, kid, I’m a be famous like muthafucking Tyson. Mug gonna be on T-shirts. Like whaaaat! I’m a be like muthafucking O.J. Peoples gonna be like ‘how da fuck he do it,’ and all.” Lil’ Long guffawed. Vulcha joined him.

“Yeah, yeah, they gonna be like, ‘I know he couldn’t have done all that shit by hisself.’ Bitch niggas we ain’t fucking with their asses!” Vulcha said. He laughed so hard his weapon fell. The sexy waitress stooped, displaying all her assets, and picked up the weapon.

“Lose your gun, you might lose your life, thug.” She said and handed the weapon to Vulcha, who continued laughing as he rubbed his face in her breasts.

In this club, the only ones who stripped were the women. The patrons, a hundred percent male, entered with all their clothes on and kept them on. Even their hats and coats stayed on, because there was no place to hang them. And displaying a gun was as normal as having your hat and coat. Nobody but the waitress even seemed to notice Vulcha’s weapon when he dropped it.

Vulcha staggered off to the men’s room. On his way back, he picked up a couple of hits of cocaine. He shoved the small porcelain receptacle in front of Lil’ Long, spilling some in the process. Lil’ Long lifted the stem and made two sucking sounds with each nostril. He handed the dish to Vulcha.

“Is what, muthafucka? I’m there wid you,” Vulcha said and his eyes followed Lil’ Long’s gaze toward the strippers. Vulcha sniffed cocaine until the white powder was all gone and he set the dish down. He clasped both hands to his nose and sucked in his breath until his face looked purple.

“Yo, this my man, Vulcha, and my name is Lil’ Long, and since you’re da one we chose, yo, you’ve got to come back to da crib wit us.”

Vulcha pulled out a phat wad and stuck a hundred-dollar bill between her mountainous breasts. The bill stayed wedged until she removed it.

Lil’ Long and Vulcha laughed and slapped five. They rose from their seats and headed for the bar, where they ordered more hits of cocaine. They shook hands all around. They fondled the buttocks of nude dancers on their way out.

Kamilla, now dressed, waited at the door. They headed for Vulcha’s place in the Navigator. But as they drove by the park, Lil’ Long impatiently asked Vulcha to make a pit stop.

He stood next to the tree and broke the silence with a shower on the grass. He returned to see Vulcha attempting to suck both nipples at once. The girl was on her back, showing her taut stomach, curving to wide hips, decorated by red bikinis. Lil’ Long moved close and tugged at her thong.

With that, she stepped out of the SUV. Vulcha sat on the hood. While she ran her tongue up and down his huge dick. Lil’ Long mounted her like a horse. She grunted, but kept on alternately sucking Vulcha’s dick and rubbing it between her breasts. Lil’ Long stabbed, grinding his body into her flesh, all the while slapping and groping her fleshy buttocks.

“Come on, daddy, it’s your turn now,” Kamilla said and massaged Vulcha’s shaft. It shot up to the sky and shone as Kamilla licked the tip.

Lil’ Long and Vulcha traded places. Lil’ Long now received the slurping and rubbing. Vulcha grunted and Kamilla squealed as he pushed his member all the way in. They fucked her long and hard; both of them alternating until she thought there were two dicks attached to a single body, splitting her in half.

“Ah, yessss, bitch do ya thang,” Lil’ Long screamed. He slapped her ass, thrusting faster and faster. He slowed down, and then began hissing.

He withdrew and leaned against the Navigator, panting. Vulcha, who used an extra-large condom to sheath his member, thrust into the girl immediately. They rocked back and forth, each body movement in support of the other, Vulcha holding on to her mountainous breasts to balance himself.

Lil’ Long rested against the SUV, smoking and enjoying the show. As he puffed on his cigarette, he noticed through the smoke cloud other eyes watching the scene. The eyes belonged to the people who were stuck on the highway earlier.

Lil’ Long smiled then he hollered: “Hey, yo big man. You wanna come get some o’ this shit?” He chuckled. “Bring ya bitch too, kid.”

This was the park where Danielle and Cory came to escape his father. Now they were discovered, caught in the act. Cory started the car and hit the accelerator. They raced to the street. Then Cory switched on the lights and considered a new side of Danielle. She had definitely been turned on watching the orgy. Her hand had drifted over and grasped his swelling member. She seemed to be in a trance-like state; her gaze fixed on the dance in the park. She jerked hungrily to the rhythm of the movements. Damn she had some big breasts. Cory’s thoughts were rattled.

“What’re you so busy thinking ‘bout?” Danielle asked and nudged Cory with her elbow. He reached over and drew her closer.

“Hey, hey, chill,” Cory said, regaining control of himself and the vehicle. He saw the woman’s breasts and buttocks in his imagination and he felt nothing but lust.

At the park, Vulcha rested on his hands on the grass. His body seemed suspended by the huge appendage to the dark inner crevice between her thighs. She rocked back and forth, kneading her own breasts. Vulcha sprung from the grass. His force thrust her forward. She toppled in front of him, but recovered immediately, spinning around like a cat. Kamilla arched her back. She was on all fours. Vulcha rammed her from behind.

“Yesss bitch, gimme that shit,” he exalted, riding his charge. She wiggled and screamed. Vulcha held on as long as he could, then he exploded loud and hard.

He continued to laugh at Vulcha, sprawled, out of breath, on the grass. Kamilla got to her feet. She put her long coat on over her bikinis, buttoned it, then walked over to Lil’ Long and grabbed his crotch.

He thrust a hundred-dollar bill in her coat pocket. Quickly, she was on her knees and his hard dick disappeared in her mouth. He lay back against the Navigator and watched her head bob. Vulcha was still on the ground. Lil’ Long’s eyes rolled upward as his head tilted back, seduced by the pleasures her mouth gave him.

He saw the dark clouds of night mesh with the bright-tinted clouds of dawn. The sun’s rays welcomed the early morning. Lil’ Long’s dick slid easily in and out of Kamilla’s rounded lips. I gotta get mines, kid, he thought, drifting into the depths of pleasure.

Loud bangs awoke them. Vulcha ran toward the Navigator, gun at the ready. Instinctively, he paused to check the source of the noise. Sanitation workers were throwing the park’s empty trash containers back in position. Patches of smoky clouds overtook the sunlight. These heavy clouds brought an overcast morning, which shielded the two in its shadow. Vulcha stuck the weapon in his belt.

“Yo, I wuz lying there like, ‘what da fuck,’” Vulcha said, getting in the SUV and cranking the engine. The vehicle hurtled forward at breakneck speed, flinging both driver and passenger forward. Lil’ Long braced his arms against the dashboard.

“That bitch really fucked da dog-shit outta you, dogs. Let me buckle up for safety.” Lil’ Long checked to see if Vulcha was all right. Vulcha gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“That your ass is a no-driving son of a bitch, that’s all.” Lil’ Long thought of softening this with a smile, but changed his mind. Instead, he sniffed the cocaine he had lifted from Kamilla. He handed the foil to Vulcha.

“Damn, kid, I would’ve bought your ass some mo’ shit from da club if I knew you were fiending,” Lil’ Long said as Vulcha licked the inside of the foil.

“Yo, that bitch wuz bad for a muthafuck,” Vulcha reflected. He pulled up in front of an all night cafe and they got out. Lil’ Long reached up with both arms, as if trying to touch the darkening sky. There were no more rays peeking to make things bright. The two struggled to the entrance of the cafe, dragging along like the dark sky of the night seeking to cover the earth. The fading moon had lost the battle.